


Rainy Days

by lokimostly



Series: Rainy Days & Home From War [1]
Category: Kong: Skull Island (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I can't tag anything else without spoiling, Smut, Smut and Fluff, Vietnam, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 22:43:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18787750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokimostly/pseuds/lokimostly
Summary: When Captain James Conrad shows up unexpected at your army outpost in eastern Vietnam, both your lives turn upside down. And whether you want to or not, he’s not the kind of man you forget about.





	1. Chapter 1

“We have a small group of injured men coming up from the south, over.”

The tan colored tent had been eerily quiet for some time, interrupted only by the sounds of bugs outside. You looked up from your paperwork, reaching for the walkie-talkie sitting atop the folding table and pressing the button on the side.

“This is physician Y/L/N, standing by. How many men, over?”

The walkie buzzed for a moment before the sentry on the other end replied. “ _Thirteen. They’ll be with you in less than a half an hour. Over_.”

“Injuries?” You asked. You pressed the button again quickly. “Over.”

“ _No one in critical condition. Three need immediate help. Over._ ”

You nodded to yourself, setting down the walkie and drumming your fingers on the table for a moment. Then you set to work, pulling on white gloves and making sure your bed was in order. Every bed had already been neatly arranged, tools of the trade organized. Camp Eagle wasn’t anywhere close to your most exciting assignment, but work was work, and at least cleaning wounds would stave off your boredom.

You heard footsteps and turned to the entrance. It was Fletcher, your partner, with a med box in her hands.

“I thought you were already gone with the last squad,” You said conversationally, taking the box. She shook her head, swatting at a bug. “No, but I’m leaving in a few minutes. I heard you’ve got some work incoming.”

“Yeah, nothing I can’t handle, Fletcher,” You laughed, setting the box on the table and opening it up, setting out the contents with the rest of your supplies. “Now go be a doctor somewhere else.”

Fletcher snorted, but before she could respond, noise from outside reached the two of your tent. She raised her eyebrows and pointed at you. “Sounds like they’re coming. Good luck.”

“Have a safe flight home,” you respond, smiling at her before she disappeared through the tent flap.

The clamoring outside grew louder. You pulled open the tent flap, and were greeted on the other side by a man.

“Are you the doctor?” He heaved, obviously out of breath. His muscled chest shook with every exhale, and he held one large hand against a large, wide gash across his torso.

“Uh– well, physician, yes,” you answered. “Come in, come in.”

He shook his head, waving his free hand and then gesturing to himself. “I’m Captain Conrad,” he said, speaking between breaths. “British SAS. There are…  men out here who need … your help.”

“You obviously need my help, too,” you rebutted. “Come inside. Sit down.”

He shook his head again. You sighed in exasperation and took him by the upper arm, leading him to one of the cots. The muscles underneath his shirt were surprisingly firm.

He sank reluctantly onto the thin cushion of the cot, his whole body sagging in obvious relief. His expressions were hardly visible underneath the mussed beard, layers of dirt and dried blood that practically coated his face. But when he looked up, his blue-green eyes were clearer than tropic water, unclouded by war and filled instead by something deeper and unknown.

You didn’t know what it was, but damn if you didn’t want to find out.

“Thank you,” He whispered earnestly.

You nodded, letting go of his arm reluctantly and smiling. “It’s my job,” you replied, barely above a whisper. Your eyes were fixed on his, and you could feel your face flushing. Why couldn’t you look away?

But he didn’t look away either, and the British Captain’s dirty face curled into a wry, knowing smile.

~

Night had fallen over your encampment, and with the disappearance of the sun came the the sounds of the jungle around you. Even inside your medical tent, noises of bugs and birds pervaded, providing a loud– but familiar –background noise. As the stars peered out from behind clouds of humid mist and rain, the camp turned into a different world: one of lamplight and secrets and things unseen.

You sat on a stool inside your medical tent, leaning over Conrad’s bare chest as you cleaned the wound. His muscles flexed every time he flinched at the sting of alcohol, and each time you apologized.

“I’m almost done, I swear,” you told him. His eyes were fixed on your face. He shrugged off your statement.

“I’ve told you, it’s alright,” he said. His deep, British accent was both unfamiliar and strangely alluring. His face was washed now, albeit still unshaved, and you could see the definition of his jawbones. “I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah, right,” You laughed, wiping the dried blood off his stomach. He tilted his head at you and smiled.

“I’m not lying,” he said, his lips breaking into a smile. “I’ve earned scars worse than this. Though perhaps not as life-threatening.”

You raised your eyebrows and shook your head, inhaling deeply and standing up to retrieve the gauze on the table. “Well, maybe you’ll have to prove it sometime,” you replied. You could feel his eyes burning holes in your back, and you fumbled for the roll of gauze, coming back and sitting back down in the stool.

His eyes hadn’t left you the whole time, gazing without hostility but rather curiosity, that sent a warm shiver down your spine.

“Can you sit up?” You asked finally, and he obliged with a grunt of pain. Your hands went automatically to help, grabbing onto his wide shoulders and pulling him closer to you. He reached his hand up and grasped yours, enveloping it.

“Thank you,” he murmured. You felt the shiver again.

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, lowering your eyes and clearing your throat, unwrapping the white gauze in your hands. You moved over from the stool to the bed, sitting in front of him and reaching forward to wrap the gauze around his middle. You kept your head ducked, afraid to look into his eyes again. Not that they scared you, but… well, maybe they did.

You could feel the warmth of Conrad’s skin radiating as he breathed, and you wrapped the gauze slowly around to cover the wide gash. It stretched from one shoulder to the bottom of his ribcage, slicing deep and wide across his chest. It had missed his heart by inches.

You leaned forward to wrap around his back, scooting closer. “Sorry,” you mumbled, barely loud enough for him to hear. Was it just your imagination, or was he leaning away?

You scooted closer still, ducking your head underneath his chin. The hair on the back of your neck prickled at the sensation of his breath blowing against it.

“I’m finished,” you said, leaning back and looking up at him. You realized you had been sitting practically in his lap this whole time. You felt your face grow hot and moved quickly to get up, but Conrad caught your hand.

You gave an embarrassed laugh, pulling away. “Please don’t,” you said. “You need rest, and I–”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted. His expression was genuine and apologetic. “It’s just… you’re astoundingly beautiful.”

You scoffed, walking over to the folding table and putting away the med kit. “Just because I’m the first woman you’ve seen in months–” you began.

“No, really,” he said. He swung his legs off the cot and stood slowly, walking over to you. You turned around, staring up at him. He was incredibly tall. But you’d noticed before, right? 

“May I come see you tomorrow?” He asked softly. His hands tapped restlessly at his sides, but he didn’t reach for you. He seemed like a careful, calculated man, with a great degree of self control. You absently wondered what it would take to break that self control. 

“You’d better,” you said. “I need to check your wound for the next two weeks at least.”

He flashed a smile. “Good.”

~

Afternoon seemed to last an eternity.

Every one of the twelve pilots who’d been stranded in the jungle had come through your tent, undergone medical inspections and given an all-clear on their checkup. You’d spent the day cleaning cuts, stitching wounds, and prescribing medicines. You’d provided them with updated atabrine shots, checked for diseases, and run every single one through all the health procedures you could think of. But it left you feeling no closer to dusk, when he’d promised to come in and see you.

Conrad.

You still didn’t know his first name. Only the intenseness of his gaze and the deep, accented inflections of his surprising words.

“Astoundingly beautiful,” you murmured to yourself, repeating his words from last night. You laughed through your nose. Out of all the compliments you’d ever received, his bordered on most absurd.

He was a good man, though. You’d been a physician in the war for two years now, and you could tell. Most soldiers weren’t. Hell, many of the pilots who’d come through today had offered up a crude remark or awkward, clumsy compliment that came off as creepy rather than endearing. The Captain, on the other hand, knew what he was doing, and you liked that about him. Well, it was one of the things you liked.

You sighed, shaking our head and tossing your gloves onto the table. Might as well go and eat.

Ducking under the tent flap, you pulled your loose camisole up and tucking your nurse dog tags into your shirt. Cans of rationed food were held in one of the supply trucks, parked a few tents away.

You passed a soldier, who nodded to you and smiled. “Head under cover, soon, Y/L/N. It’s going to rain.”

“Thanks,” you said, looking up at the sky. It seemed clear enough, but jungle weather was barely predictable, and you could never tell. The hard packed dirt beneath your feet was dry and dusty, but if the soldier was right, it wouldn’t be for long.

You reached the truck and grabbed two cans of vegetables and beans, juggling them in your hands as you walked back. You kept a spoon in your backpack in the medical tent– unrusted and clean. Not that you were a germaphobe, per say: being a physician meant you knew the importance of clean utensils. Others, unfortunately, did not.

Your feet stopped outside of your medical tent and you wavered for a moment, looking up at the sky again. It did seem a bit darker. Maybe you should go and find Conrad, instead of wait alone. Or perhaps you should head to your own private tent and enjoy your dinner there.

Common sense favored the latter. There was a book in your backpack you’d been itching to finish. But then again, the anxious beating in your chest wanted you to wait.

So you stood there, kicking your toes in the dust and trying fruitlessly to decide. You muttered to yourself, still holding the cans in your hands, looking for all the world like a crazy person.

_Maybe he’d come to your tent if he didn’t find you here?_  No, you argued silently, he didn’t know where your tent is.  _Maybe you should leave a note._  What were you, a high school girl?

“Is this a heated debate?” A familiar voice asked, tapping on your shoulder. You shrieked and spun around to find Captain Conrad, his face clean shaven, smirking down at you. “Should I come back later?”

“No!” You shouted, immediately feeling your face heat up even more. “I mean,” You said, struggling to regain your composure, “No, I’m, I-I’m available now.”

“Good,” he smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. You could see the ridges of his muscles underneath his skin-tight shirt. “I’m in need of a checkup.”

“Uh huh,” you said distractedly, turning around and ducking under the door flap as fast as you possibly could. He followed you with an amused expression. “I’m sorry if I interrupted you,” he said earnestly. “Truly. I can come back later.”

“Actually, you probably can’t,” you sighed, brushing your hair back and setting your canned food down on the counter. “They’re saying it’s gonna rain.”

“They’re right,” he agreed, peering out of the tent flap. His eyes reflected the stormy blue of the sky above. “Anywhere from in a few minutes until dusk, but it’ll rain.”

“And now, back to the news,” you smiled, pulling on your gloves. “Sit down on the cot, please.”

“As you wish,” he replied, striding over and sitting down. His long legs barely lifted off the ground as he swung his feet, almost childishly, waiting for you to come over.

“I’m giving you a shot today,” you said, opening the med kit. “Just for malaria. But I took care of everything else yesterday, so other than a new wrap, that’s all you’ll probably need.”

“Oh,” he said. Did he sound disappointed? “Very well.” He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing his muscled upper arm.

You tested the needle and grabbed a cotton swab, walking over and murmuring a thank you for holding up his sleeve. “Do you have any problems with needles?”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to admit it,” he chuckled. “I will concede that they are not my favorite medical procedure.”

“Well, it’ll be over in a second, I promise,” You conceded, sanitizing his skin with the cotton swab and trying to think of something to distract him. You gasped quietly at an idea. “Hey, I have a joke for you.”

Conrad frowned, tilting his head at you. “A joke?”

You nodded. “Yeah, you guys have jokes in Britain, right?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

You smiled, positioning the needle on his arm. “What you say to console a friend when their bakery burns down?”

Conrad bit his lower lip, narrowing his eyes at you and shaking his head. “Erm,” he said, and laughed, “I suppose you could say ‘I’m terribly sorry, how  _breadful_?”

“No!” You laughed, inserting the needle and giving him the shot. “You’re supposed to say ‘at  _yeast_  you made it out alive.”

He winced a little, still laughing, and raised his eyebrows. “You could also say their business is toast.”

“Oh, that’s just bad,” you grimaced, and he laughed again. The sound of it filled your chest with a warm, pleasant feeling. You didn’t want it to leave, and you found yourself caught in his eyes again, staring long after both of your laughter had died out.

“Alright, you’re done,” you smiled, looking at him as you walked back to the table. “Want a bandaid?”

“No, I’m alright,” he chuckled. “Though you still have to wrap me. Again.”

You blushed, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Actually, I only have to do that if it’s bled through. You’ll probably need it wrapped tomorrow, not tonight.”

“Well, come and see, then,” he said, leaning back on his elbows.

Thunder crashed over head, startling the both of you. You gave a surprised shout, and he shot up, coming to your side in an instant. His large hand was on the small of your back, leaning down with a concerned expression.

“Afraid of thunder?” He asked gently. The sound of rain began to pitter-patter all around you, hitting the top of the tent like tiny drum beats.

“No. I’m just– you should go,” you said finally, feeling embarrassed. You pulled away quickly and straightened your shirt, wiping your hands on your pants. “You won’t make it back to your tent in time if you stay.”

“I could always wait it out here–” he began.

“ – no,” you interrupted, feeling your face flush even more. “You should go.”

“Do I come in tomorrow?” He asked quietly, looking down at you. His expression was that of a hurt puppy, and you mentally kicked yourself in the foot.

“Of course,” you said quickly. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, sighing and smiling at you. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He ducked underneath the flap and stepped out into the rain, which was growing thicker by the moment, and you stood there until you heard his muddy steps disappear.

_God, you’re an idiot,_  you thought to yourself, pulling off your gloves and throwing them at the table. You sagged onto one of the cots and put your head in your hands.

You were never good with crushes, and now you’d gone and blown this chance. He’d been so kind…

… then again, maybe you were crazy. Perhaps he hadn’t meant what he said, or didn’t have any interest in you at all. 

_You probably caught some kind of jungle fever and imagined the whole thing,_ you thought glumly. 

The rain was cascading against the top of the tent now, and the afternoon air had turned chilly. Your mood felt cold and damp as well, and you sighed, envisioning the next few hours of rain and how you’d be spending it: without a book, or your own bed, and nothing but thrice-organized medical supplies to keep you company.

You gave a final sigh and stood up, slouching against the table. The rainstorm outside was turning the ground to mud, forming puddles and making even more noise to add to the cacophony. The rhythmic, heavy sloshing sounds…

Wait.

The flap of the tent opened and Conrad peered inside, soaking wet and grinning.

“I’ve got a jacket,” he said, nodding to what he held above his head. “Want me to walk you to your tent?”

You grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

“ … and I scrambled for a grab, but I fell anyway,” you finished. **  
**

Sitting across from you on your bed, Conrad’s worried expression turned to shock. “You didn’t make it up? What about your cat?”

You shook your head, smiling. “He came back a week later. My friend biked me all the way to the hospital on his handlebars. And I’ve got this on my arm to prove it,” you said, twisting your left arm to show him a jagged scar that ran up your forearm.

He leaned forward and whistled appreciatively, gently taking your arm in his large hands to examine this newfound scar. You blushed at his touch, watching his eyes trace over it, before they flickered upwards and stared back at you.

“Impressive,” He said, smirking. “Though it doesn’t beat my tiger story.”

“Your tiger story is bullshit,” you laughed, hitting him in the arm and pulling your legs onto the bed, sitting criss-cross.

“It is not,” he argued firmly, pushing your knee gently with his hand. “The scar is just too intimate, so I can’t prove it to you right now.”

“What a shame,” you smiled. Your face flushed when you realized that you sounded serious, not joking. And even worse, you were pretty sure you meant it.

 _I can’t prove it to you right now,_  he’d said. What did that mean for the future?

Comfortable silence fell inside your tent, and a roll of thunder rumbled in the clouds, reminding you of the rainstorm outside. After Conrad came back to get you, you’d taken refuge inside your private tent. Close space and orange lamplight made it feel private, even though you barely knew each other, and the downpour of rain outside covered any loud laugh or other, more… intimate sounds you might make.

Your ears were burning at the thought of it.

“Where were those pilots when you found them?” You asked, interrupting the silence between you, and in turn your own raucous thoughts.

The Captain had been sitting motionless on the bed, and seemed to wake himself up at your question. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Erm, a bit south of Da Nang. A hundred klicks.”

Your eyes widened. “A hundred?” you asked incredulously. “Through the jungle? It’s a miracle you’re not dead!”

“You underestimate me,” he smiled. His eyes looked tired. “Tracking is my job, don’t forget.”

“Still,” you said quietly. You reached  behind you and grabbed your pillow, putting it in your lap and hugging it to your chest.

He smiled, humming through his nose. “So how did you become a field doctor?”

You raised your finger, waving it at him. “Nuh-uh. First, I’m not a doctor. I never got my medical degree.”

He raised his hands innocently, nodding and smiling. “Apologies.”

You dropped your hand and shook your head, laughing. “Sorry,” you said. “It’s a little bit of a pet peeve. Technically, I’m just a physician.” You raised your hand to cover a yawn.

Conrad sighed, looking at you and quirking a half-smile. “Tired?”

You hummed in response, flicking your wrist in front of your face to check your watch and gasping. “It’s nearly 0200.”

He nodded, rising slowly to his feet and wincing. “I should go, then.”

“No–” you said, catching his wrist without thinking. He frowned at you and tilted his head.

“I mean,” you stammered, “W-we’re on a hill. In that kind of mud, you won’t make it anywhere. You’ll probably just lose your footing, or even get stuck. Trust me, it turns to glue.”

Conrad’s blue-green eyes studied you for a long minute, puzzling over. It was obvious that he was facing some kind of cognitive dissonance, hesitation that stopped him from going either way.

Then he nodded, smiled at you, and sat back down on the bed. “Very well.”

You let go of his wrist quickly, hugging your pillow again. Your mouth turned up in a smile and you bit your lip, nudging him with your elbow. “Hey. Tell me that tiger story again. More detail this time.”

“So you can pick it apart?” He chuckled.

“Nooo, I just wanna hear it!” You pleaded, laying down on your elbows and looking up at him. “Please?”

Conrad sighed and leaned back, pondering his thoughts as he stared at the tan ceiling. The lamplight accented the features of his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jawbone, his nose, gently illuminating his clean-combed hair.

“Well, tigers are orange and black striped,” he began.

You hit him in the arm with your pillow. “Oh, come on!”

He laughed, pushing the pillow away and exhaling a light laugh. He lifted his legs onto the bed and laid down on one side, holding his head in his hand as he stared at you with low-lidded eyes.

“Fine,” he said lowly, his accented voice deeper and more gravelly than usual. You smiled widely, raising your eyebrows and waiting for him to begin.

“It was a year ago, far north of Ho Chi Mihn. A small village on a river, called Samot Kraom…”

~

The rain had stopped. The roof of your tent was sagging with water, and little droplets of condensation dripped slowly off of the tan canvas and onto your cheek, waking you from your sleep.

You groaned and moved to stretch your arms, until you realized that you couldn’t. Your eyes snapped open and your hands went to your waist, where two strong arms were wrapped around it, and the man they belonged to soundly asleep.

Conrad’s face was nestled tenderly in the crook of your neck, his breath gentle and warm on your skin. Your legs were tangled, and despite your squeaks of horror he made no sign of waking.

You wanted to melt into the mattress. How could you let this happen? You quickly wiggled your wrist out of his grasp to check your watch and felt your heart sink even further into your toes.

0830.

You were very, very late.

“Captain?” You whispered. You tapped his arm frantically tapped his wrist, biting your lip. “Captain?”

Nothing.

You groaned loudly, letting your head fall back against the mattress and turning to face him. In sleep the lines in his skin had disappeared, making him look younger and less careworn. His cheekbones and jawline were still sharp, but not as chiseled or hollow. His eyelashes were still against his cheeks.

You bit your lip, relaxing a bit as you studied his face. You were stuck for the meantime, nothing to about it. Your eyes flickered over his lips and you reached upwards to touch them, wanting to kiss him. But that was ridiculous– you would already be in enough trouble if anyone found out he’d spent the night. Even if it was accidental.

But… maybe one kiss wouldn’t hurt?

You leaned a bit closer, your gaze flickering anxiously between his lips and his closed eyes. He was so close.

 _It’s not right,_  you thought, and sighed. You couldn’t kiss him without his knowing.

You huffed in frustration, bringing your hand up to your mouth and chewing on your thumbnail. Your eyebrows knitted together in a frown as you reached forward to touch his face, running a feather-light finger over his soft lips.

This was torture.

Conrad inhaled deeply, eyelashes fluttering. You squeaked in panic. He reached up and took your hand, pressing a gentle, tiny kiss to your knuckles, and opened his eyes.

You stared at each other for a few seconds, inches apart, his eyes glazed over dreamily with the fading grip of sleep. Then they cleared, and he shot out of the bed, landing on his feet and staring at you in shock.

“I’m so sorry–” he began.

“It’s okay!” You said, raising your hands to calm him. Your voice was equally panicked. “It’s fine!” 

Your heart was pattering again, filled with the same anxiety as when you woke up.  _So much for a tender moment._

He raked his hands through his hair and began pacing inside your tent. Then he stopped, spun on his heel towards you, and pressed a hand to his lips before speaking.

“You’re an American?” he asked sternly.

You gave him an incredulous look. “No, shit.”

“Yes, that’s a very American thing to say,” he muttered saltily, shaking his head and pacing again. 

You groaned loudly, rolling off the bed and standing up. You pulled up your tank top and tucked your dog tags into your undershirt, rolling your eyes at him. “What are you doing?”

“Thinking,” he responded without halting.

“Okay, well, it’s driving me crazy,” you admitted, brushing hair from your face. You pulled a small, dirty pocket mirror from the pocket of the duffle bag on the side of your bed and examined your unkempt appearance.

He frowned for a moment, watching you fix your hair in the in the pocket mirror. He walked over and grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around to face him.

“Hey–!” You began, but he shook his head to silence you, placing both his hands firmly on your shoulders.

“Did we do anything?” He asked. His eyes were more intense and stormy than you’d ever seen, but you couldn’t pay attention to that now.

“Like… did we kiss?” You asked slowly.

“I don’t know,” he said impatiently. “Did we kiss, did we … sleep together…?”

“ _No!_ ” you shouted, pushing his hands off of your shoulders and glaring at him. “And I would like to think that if we  _had_  you would remember.” You crossed your arms, kicking your boots into the ground. “And we didn’t kiss, either,” you added quietly.

Conrad nodded, inhaling deeply and rubbing his face with his hands. “Good. That’s good.”

Your heart swelled with offense and you gaped at him. “That’s good?” You asked.

He looked at you blankly, blinking a few times. “Yes?”

Your heart went from swelled to withered like an unwatered plant, and the buds that had been growing fell lifeless to the ground.  _He didn’t care for you at all, you thought_. This was all a mistake. Your throat felt like it was full of cotton, choking and dry.  _Even if he had found you attractive at first, it was nothing more than that._

You nodded a few times, trying to swallow so that you could find your words. Your brain was drowning in emotional turmoil, forgetting every word or compliment he’d offered you. Now, in your head, he’d never liked you. 

 _The rain was all that ever drew you together,_ you thought sadly.  _You should’ve known_.

“Well,” you managed, your voice cracking, “Thank you … for your honesty.”

Conrad nodded slowly, his eyebrows pulling into a knitted frown. He held up one large hand, his lips parting in confusion. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m not sure I–”

“ – Don’t apologize,” you interrupted quickly, “Just come by the medical tent later so I can check your wound.” You snatched up your coat and shrugged it on as you walked out of your tent, leaving him standing alone. It was still drizzling, and the flat, grey sky matched your inner mood.

 _Who did he think he was_? You wondered angrily, shoving your hands further into your pockets as you jogged through the mud. Then the same questioning thought repeated itself back to you.  _What were you doing, wanting to kiss him? He’s just a soldier, like everybody else. It’s your fault for taking what he said to heart._

No, you had never been good with crushes. That was a fact, proven over and over. Rainy days were never a good sign, and today was no different. You should have known it would end up like this. 

 _He was probably protecting his reputation,_ you supposed glumly.  _That’s why he asked those questions._ You snapped up the hood of your jacket as the rain thickened a bit and checked your watch, ignoring the pit of anxiety in your stomach. Hopefully the base commander wouldn’t be waiting for you.

And hopefully, Conrad would be out of sight and mind once his wound was clean. 

“It’s just medical check ups,” you sighed to yourself. “I can handle that.” You looked up and watched an unfamiliar offsite medic run past you, slogging through the mud at a breakneck speed. You waved, but they ignored your greeting, and you wondering why they would be in such a hurry. 

You were about to find out.

~

Condensation dripped from the sagging ceiling of your tent. It was the only noise besides Conrad’s steady breathing as he stood in the center of the small space, eyes fixed on the doorway where he’d watch you leave. His expression was thoughtful and his lips moved silently. 

Then, his expression turned from confused to troubled, perhaps even hurt. He slowly drew his arms together across his chest, bringing a thoughtful hand to his face.

Then his eyebrows raised, and his lips parted, and a soft, “oh, no,” escaped his lips.

Of course. You’d misunderstood. And it was all his fault.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

You ducked under the flap of the medical tent, feeling relieved. You were finally where you were supposed to be. Everything was untouched from the night before, beds made and tabletops organized.

 _At least this is one thing I can count on_ , you thought, relieved.

“ _Y/L/N_!”

You jumped, spinning around to face the base Commander. He was a tall, bald man with olive skin and huge shoulders, who looked every bit like his title. His jaw was set in a displeased scowl, eyes narrowed and arms crossed.

The sense of relief you’d felt only seconds ago now disappeared into your boots. You quickly saluted before dropping your hand and stammering. “Sir, I-I can explai–”

He shook his head, silencing you. “None of that. Exhaustion gets to the best of us, but you chose a hell of a bad day to sleep in.”

You blinked a few times, nodding your head.  _So he didn’t know_. “What’s going on, Commander?”

“Injured men from the northern front. Two died on the way here,” he responded, stepping towards you and looking down. “They’ll be here in minutes. The truck is coming directly to this tent. I’ve already sent men from other trucks past our encampment and further south because _you,_  Y/L/N, our  _only_  base nurse, was M.I.A.”

“Physician,” you whispered, tucking your hair back. You could feel your face burning with embarrassment. “Sorry, sir. I’ll do my best, sir.”

“You’d better,” he snapped. You saluted him as he left the tent, leaving you for a single moment in stifling silence. Barely enough time to think, but just enough to let you feel the tremendous guilt twisting your insides into knots.

Knowing that there was nothing better to do than get to work, you sighed and pulled on your gloves. You could hear the rumble of the truck as it was coming up the path- no doubt the driver was having trouble getting through the mud.

Your mind wandered vaguely back to Conrad, but you snapped yourself out of it in an instant.

“ _Honestly_ , Y/N,” you scolded yourself quietly, just before the car stopped outside the tent and several pairs of boots hit the ground.

“Inside! Come on!” You heard, and you ran to the tent opening, holding up the flap as two men carried an injured soldier inside. His leg was a bloody mess, wounded near the femoral artery and losing blood fast.

“I need a tourniquet!” You shouted, taking over for one of the men lowering him onto the cot. “In the drawer! Go!”

He followed your direction, running to the table and rummaging through the containers, trying to find something suitable.

“Ma’am, I can’t find anything—“ he began.

“May I be of assistance?” Captain Conrad asked, ducking under the tent flap and striding over. “I’m here for my check-up, but…”

“Tourniquet,” You interrupted bluntly as you stripped the wounded soldier, revealing the awful wound.

Conrad looked between you and the soldier for a single moment before reaching down and ridding himself of his shirt, tearing it into long strips and leaving his muscular chest entirely uncovered. His own wound stretched from collarbone to hip in a diagonal line, partly bandaged and terribly inflamed. But you didn’t have time for that now.

“Here,” he said, offering the white cloth to you. You took it wordlessly and tied the tourniquet around the soldier’s thigh, ignoring the warm blood on your hands, the clamor around you, and the irritatingly handsome man who was watching you work.

As you tied it off, you looked up for a second, and caught his hazel-green eyes with your gaze. His hair was bedraggled, expression soft, and in that tiny, intimate moment, you swallowed your pride and mouthed “thank you.”

He smiled.

~

The tent was finally quiet again. Rain fell from the sky, lighter than the downpour from last night– barely a drizzle. The pitter-patter against the roof of the tent was soothing as you worked on Conrad’s wound, which had bled through the bandage and was now in need of stitches.

Your hands worked seamlessly as you cleaned the wound, ignoring the twitch of his muscles when he winced reflexively.

“I believe I owe you an apology,” he said, surprising you after working in silence for so long. It wasn’t a harsh interruption by any means- his deep, accented voice was pleasant and warm.

Your fingers faltered for a moment before you raised your eyebrows and pulled away, turning to reach for thread.

“Yes, you do,” you agreed, threading the needle with the black thread and glancing up at him. You were surprised to see that his chiseled face held genuine honesty, and his hazel-green eyes were soft and apologetic.

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” he began. You raised an eyebrow as you began sewing the wound shut.

“It’s just that—” he hissed in pain when your needle pierced his skin “—if you  _weren’t_ American, and we _had_  been caught, you would have suffered a more severe punishment than me.”

You kept working, flickering your gaze up to his face but saying nothing.

“… I didn’t want that to happen,” he continued. “And I only asked if we’d done anything because—“

“Because you don’t want me on your record?” You interrupted, bitterness seeping into your voice.

Instead of arguing, he reached down and took your hand gently, holding it against his heart.

“Quite the opposite,” Conrad admitted quietly. His eyes were deep and bright. Was it just you, or did his chiseled cheekbones have a tinge of pink in them?

“I was afraid…” he said, trailing off before starting again. “I was afraid I’d got off on the wrong foot with you. Because truly, you are stunning, and- and— capable, and—“

“I get it,” You interrupted, biting your lip to stop yourself from smirking. You were fully content to listen to a lengthy apology. 

He chuckled, letting out a sigh. “I’m not sure you do.” His eyebrows pulled together in a tentative, quizzical look. “I want to get it right with you. God knows I truly do.”

You chewed your lip and lowered your eyes, thinking long and hard. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your hand. It was strong, steady. Despite the humid air of the jungle around you, he smelled vaguely smoky, like the aftertaste of cologne and firewood.

Oh, what the hell.

You pulled your hand away from his chest and stuck it out in front of him instead, looking at him with a stubborn expression. Conrad’s eyes flickered from your hand to your face before he took it gently, giving it one firm shake.

“I forgive you,” you whispered, and a smile of relief blossomed on both your faces. “Now let me finish this stitching.”

~

Night had fallen on the camp, and brought with it clear, starry skies. Since none of the newly arrived soldiers saw any reason to spend the night inside their camp, they set up a campfire, and many others had joined them.

Once you’d finished cleaning the medical tent, you decided to go along as well. Pulling on your military jacket, and tying up your hair, you exited the tent and walked over. Your footsteps were muted by the dry, dusty ground, now devoid of any water from a few hours before. The laughter of the soldiers could be heard even from across the camp, guiding you to your destination.

As you approached the firelight you notices the many silhouettes of people sitting on barrels and crates, even crouched on the ground by the firelight. Your countenance dropped a little as you realized there was really no where to sit – you might as well go back to your tent.

You turned around to leave when, amidst the general murmur of conversation, someone spoke.

“Y/L/N, come here.”

You spin around and see Conrad smiling, his arms crossed over his broad chest, leaning against a crate with an unoccupied space. You gave him a relieved grin and made your way over, weaving in and out until you found your way to his side. You hopped onto the crate, sidling up next to him, leaning on his shoulder and sticking your hands out towards the fire to warm them.

“thanks for saving me a spot,” you said quietly.

“Of course,” he replied, uncrossing his arms and leaning against you, one hand supporting him behind your back. “Think nothing of it.”

But you were definitely thinking of it.

In fact, you would continue to think of nothing but him for the next two weeks. Conrad was a bright patch of color in your unchanging, black-and-white world. While your other medical duties, surgeries, and checkups left you exhausted, his visits to the tent were pleasant and refreshing. You weren’t surprised to find that he had a humorous and easy-going side underneath the military bravado. It was a relief; usually the men you met had been so washed out by war that bravado was all they had.

You soon found that your thoughts drifted to him more often than not. The words in your books reminded you of him, and every broad-shouldered man you passed made you look twice to make sure it wasn’t the familiar British SAS officer, on his way to see you. 

It was only until unexpected news reached your ears that you were inclined to think of anything else.

You were sitting inside your tent in the late hours of the night, poring over a book on ancient medicinals, when there was a noise outside your tent, and through it came your camp messenger.

You straightened up, quickly brushing a loose strand of hair back and raising your eyebrows quizzically. You never received letters. “Yes?”

The messenger reached into his bag and pulled out a thin piece of paper, thrice-folded, and handed it to you. “Orders from the General in Saigon.”

You took the paper gently, holding it as though it might bite you. You muttered a thank you as he left and the tent flap fell behind him, while you carefully unfolded the yellow pamphlet and scanned over the neatly typed letters. With every word your heart fell, as you realized what it would mean.

You were being relocated to the DMZ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

“The DMZ?” Conrad asked in alarm, standing in your tent with his arms crossed over his wide chest.

“The Demilitarized Zone,” you explained impatiently, tightly rolling an extra shirt and stuffing it into your pack alongside your traveling med kit. “The front lines, so to speak. It’s on the 17th parallel – Camp Carroll. It’s where the Tet Offensive happened ‘68– you must know that.”

“Of course, but why send you?” He asked, uncrossing his arms and leaning down to pick up the note on your bed that you’d received the night before, but it was just as helpful as you had been.

**IMMEDIATE TRANSFER :       L/N, Y/N, FIELD NURSE**

**17th PARALLEL DMZ**

**BY ORDER OF GENERAL ABRAMS        14 AUG 1972**

He set the note back down on the bed with a frown, putting his hand up to his face and thumbing over his bottom lip thoughtfully. You glanced up at him and blushed as you watched him catch his thumb between his teeth, and quickly looked back down at what you were doing. You snatched your final belongings –two books and an electric lamp– from beside your bed and set them in your bag, closing the zipper and pulling it onto your back, adjusting the straps.

Conrad was still deep in thought, his eyebrows furrowed and gaze distant. Your mouth twisted into an amused smile at his unusually serious demeanor.

“What?” You asked.

He snapped out of his stupor, blinking a few times and shaking his head before reaching down and picking up the order note again. “Nothing,” he said, glancing up at you. “Just taking this to the Commander.”

“Oh, I should really–” you began, but he had already left the tent. Bemused, you quickly ducked out after him, trailing at his heels and reaching for the note.

“Captain–”

“No.”

“Let me see it–”

“I’m taking it to the Commander,” he explained.

“I  _know_ ,” you huffed, dropping your arms. “But I should be the one to do it. I’m going.”

“So am I,” he retorted, raising his eyebrows at you as you walked. You nearly stumbled, regaining your footing at the last minute and catching up to him, bewildered.

“I’m sorry?”

“You think I’m letting you travel north through uncharted territory alone?” He asked, looking down at you incredulously. “Absolutely not.”

You scoffed, looking away and shaking your head. On the one hand, you knew you could handle yourself - but on the other, you were definitely flattered.

 _Conrad didn’t want to let you go_ , you realized. That sentence repeated itself over in your mind until you were almost giddy.

It was barely dawn- heavy clouds of mist were still hanging over the camp, giving it an almost ethereal atmosphere. One the sun rose, it would pierce through the mist, and quickly the cool air would turn hot and dry until the next sign of rain.

As he slowed his pace to approach the tent, you reached up and snatched the note from his grasp, ducking under the tent flap before he could object. You heard the canvas flap behind you and knew that Conrad was behind you, but your attention was soon diverted to your Commander, who turned around, took off his reading glasses, and stared at you as though you’d just put a stain in his favorite shirt.

“First you sleep in, and now you’re up early. What is it, Y/L/N?”

You saluted before handing him the paper mutely, which the Commander took and read thrice-over. He handed it back, turned his gaze to Captain Conrad, and narrowed his eyes. “And what are  _you_  doing here?”

“Sir,” Conrad said, saluting quickly before dropping his hand. “Permission to accompany nurse Y/L/N to the DMZ.”

The Commander’s eyes narrowed further and he turned around completely, setting his hands behind his back and raising his chin. Even at his full height, Conrad was a fraction taller, and you could tell that wasn’t something that the Commander particularly enjoyed.

You steeled yourself for the Commander’s flat “no,” and the argument that would ensue. It was highly unlikely that the Commander would allow an important foreign operative to accompany a field nurse, even if it was to Camp Carroll.

“Has your wound healed enough for you to perform sufficiently?” The Commander asked.

“Yes,” Conrad replied. Your jaw nearly dropped. There had been no argument– not even the slightest hesitation.

The Commander turned his head to you and very pointedly raised his eyebrow. “Do you confirm the Captain’s self-diagnosis?”

Your eyes widened and you glanced at Conrad quickly, knowing you should say no. While you were aware that the surface skin had healed marvelously, any serious combat or strenuous situation would definitely reopen his wound.

Conrad looked back at you, his green eyes dark and face expressionless, but you could tell in his posture and the tenseness in his arms that he wanted you to say yes– and obviously, the feeling was mutual.

“I do, sir,” you said, nodding once.

“Then you may go,” he said slowly, looking between the two of you with a slightly suspicious expression - then again, the Commander was always slightly suspicious.

You and Conrad both saluted simultaneously and exited the tent, stepping out into the fog.

As soon as you were clear, you both turned to look at each other. Conrad lifted you up into a spontaneous hug, laughing as he set you down. You squeaked in surprise, your face turning red at his highly unusual display of affection.

“What was that for?” You asked as you began walking, putting your hair back in place.

“I’m just glad,” he said simply, though when you looked at his face you noticed his cheeks had a bit of pink in them, too.

~

The two of you set out an hour later. You had given yourself a little more time to collect your things, pack food, and double-up on medical supplies. Considering you were the only one in your camp being transferred to the DMZ, you assumed that Camp Carroll’s need was specific to medics, and whether or not they would have adequate supplies when you arrived was uncertain.

 _Better safe than sorry_ , you thought, as you stuffed three rolls of gauze into the side pocket of your bag before shrugging on your military bomber jacket and pushing back your hair for the last time.

You stepped out of the medical tent to find Conrad already waiting: a light backpack and a rifle strapped to his back, and a thigh holster for a machete at his side. He wore no jacket – only a plain beige tee-shirt that hugged his shoulders and alluded to the muscles beneath the fabric. He was clean-shaven and fresh faced, with a determined expression and twinkling eyes that told you this three-day endeavor would be much, much better now that you had a companion.

You found yourself raking over his appearance and quickly stopped yourself, putting your thumbs underneath the straps of your pack and smiling at him.

“I’m ready, Captain,” you said, tilting your head.

He scoffed lightly, rolling his eyes and turning on his heel, waving for you to follow him. “Please. Call me Conrad at the very least. Or even James,” he added offhandedly.

You laughed. “No, I’m never calling you James.”

“Why not?” He asked, looking down at you with an amused expression.

You shrugged.  _It’s too intimate_ , you thought blatantly, but you didn’t want to say so out loud. 

“It’s not professional,” you quipped, raising your chin. Conrad chuckled and nodded, and you noticed that there were dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. How had you not seen those before?

The two of you reached the end of your encampment, where a truck was idling. Its driver was leaned against the door, a cigarette in his fingers, and a paperback novella folded back in his hands. At the sound of your footsteps, he quickly stuffed the novella in his cargo pants pocket and put out the cigarette, clearing his throat and climbing into the driver’s seat.

You and Conrad both got into the back of the truck, sitting across from each other underneath the canvassed top. You set your bag down next to you and took the opportunity to stretch your legs, reaching them across and tapping your boots against his calves. Conrad chuckled and pushed your boot away, raising his eyebrows.

“You have terribly small feet.”

“Yours are just terribly large,” you retorted, mimicking his accent. Conrad gave you a flat look and shook his head, pretending to be unimpressed- though you could see a smile in his eyes.

The truck drove north over the bumpy road for two hours. Despite the abrupt rising and falling of the road, you found yourself falling asleep with your head in your hands, and a sudden bump startled you from sleep more than once.

But you did fall asleep, because you didn’t notice that the truck had pulled to a stop at the end of the road until Captain Conrad roused you, putting his hand on your leg and squeezing it gently.

“Y/L/N,” he said, his accented voice gentle and soft.

You sat up quickly, rubbing your eyes to get rid of any drowsiness and hopping down from the truck, grabbing your bag. You looked around and saw that the fog was gone, and already the sun’s heat was beating down on your neck. Off the side of the road was thick jungle, and while you were looking forward to getting out of the sunlight, the prospect of hacking your way through unknown terrain wasn’t a particularly exciting prospect.

“Come on,” Conrad said, waving to the driver as the truck’s engine switched to second gear and it rumbled away. You watched it disappear into the dust before pulling on your backpack straps and following him, heading off the road and jogging to catch up.

Conrad glanced at you over his muscled shoulder as he ducked under the first branches of the forest, checking his watch and looking up at the sun before the foliage covered the sky completely and you were in a new world.

The noises around you were completely different from that of the grasslands where you had been encamped; the air was close and dense, yet full of noise and bustling with life. It made you uneasy, but having Conrad with you was a tremendous help. This was his specialty, after all.

“So why aren’t you a nurse?” He asked abruptly, shaking you from you thoughts. He held his machete in one hand, cutting through foliage when needed.

“I never finished my degree,” you replied, hopping over a fallen log, watching the muscles below his shirt flex every time he cut away a branch. “I was only a semester from graduation before the war started. In a way I was lucky. I’d been in school for so long that I was feeling kind of… listless, I guess.”

“Are your parents in the medical field as well?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder at you.

You shake your head, blowing a piece of hair out of your face and chuckling. “Actually, they’re botanists- plant nurses. Deciding to become a human nurse was funny to them.” You pause, realizing you haven’t written to them in a while.

 _I definitely have lots to tell,_  you thought, looking up at Conrad.

By the time night had fallen and Conrad had decided to stop, you were about ready to collapse. Jungle terrain was entirely different from what you were used to, and you weren’t looking forward to being sore tomorrow.

You dropped your bag onto the ground and pulled out your sleeping mat, laying it out on a bare spot on the forest floor.

Conrad was kneeling on the ground a few feet away from you, arranging firewood in a conical shape around a small pile of kindling. He had a silver lighter in his hand, which he flipped open with his thumb and held down to light the kindling, blowing gently to coax the flame.

You collapsed onto your mat and watched him work the fire until it spread to the logs. “Cool lighter,” you complimented, reaching your hand out.

He looked up and laughed through his nose, tossing it to you. You caught it in your hand and flipped it, looking at the engraved letters on the side.  _R.A.F._

Conrad stood to his full height and stepped over, putting his hands on his pockets.

“It was my father’s,” he said quietly, watching you examine it carefully with a small smile on his face. You were always so focused, even when curious- he had grown increasingly fond of your many facial expressions, the way your eyes would widen and your eyebrows creased.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, sitting down beside you and picking up a stick, poking the fire as it began to spark. “He threw it to me from the train as he rolled off to fight the Nazis.”

You looked up, staring at him. His green eyes had grown distant, the firelight casting ever-changing shadows on his chiseled face. Suddenly the lighter in your hand felt heavier, but you said nothing.

Conrad inhaled deeply, seeming to pull himself out of memory, and took the lighter gently. His fingers brushed against yours and you shivered, suddenly realizing how much the temperature had dropped. You untied your bomber jacket from your waist and pulled it over your shoulders, pulling your knees to your chest.

Conrad watched you pull on your jacket and smiled faintly, pocketing the lighter and standing up.

“I’ll take the first watch,” he said, in a tone that made it clear he wouldn’t budge if you argued.

You nodded, pulling your blanket out of your backpack and lying on your side, using your arm for a pillow and looking up at the sky. It was clear but cold, and between the dense leaves you thought could see glimpses of stars.

Conrad pulled out his machete, sitting down on a stone by the fire and turning it over before sheathing it again. His gaze fell to your face and you quickly closed your eyes, not wanting to be caught staring.

A chilly wind blew through the trees and you shivered, pulling your blanket up. Before you could really wonder if the cold would be an issue, you could feel the corners of your mind falling away.

 _He’s watching over me_ , you thought drowsily, before darkness claimed your mind and you fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in this chapter! There's a "***" before and after if you don't want to read.

The second day was  _entirely_  different.

The weather was stormy when you awoke. The jungle stirring uneasily, and the sun was completely hidden by the yellow-grey sky, stretched tight over the earth like the roof of a drum.

Conrad’s patience seemed stretched thin as well, and he was silent for most of the journey. The jungle seemed to set him on edge, and on more than one occasion he stopped you in mid-step to check your surroundings.

You were weaving your way through a stretch of tall grass amidst the jungle trees, consumed by these thoughts, when something caught on your foot and you fell forward.

But before you could hit the ground, Conrad turned and lunged towards you, catching you against his chest. You flung your arms around his neck, gasping as he lifted you up onto your feet, loosening his grip once you were steady.

“Are you alright?” He asked earnestly, looking you up and down, his hands on your arms.

You nodded breathlessly, your face heating up when you realized he was still holding you against his chest.

“Yeah, I’m- I’m fine,” you said quickly. “I just tripped over a root, or something.”

He nodded, letting go of you reluctantly, his gaze lingering on your face before he turned around and continued on. Only when he started walking did you realize how close he’d been, how warm his skin was, and the faint but pleasant smell of his cologne that lingered even after he’d pulled away. Every bit of it was intoxicating.

you mentally kicked yourself in the foot. _How could one man drive you so crazy?_

Thunder rolled through the sky above you, low and loud. It vibrated in your chest as a sudden wind picked up, blowing against your back.

Conrad stopped walking to look upwards and you nearly ran into him, halting just in time. His eyes were narrowed up at the yellow sky, and he put his hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s gain as much distance as we can,” he advised. “I’m afraid we probably won’t have long before the conditions worsen.”

You nodded in agreement, trying to ignore his touch. Then he smiled for the first time that day, his eyes crinkling kindly, and your heart did a somersault in your chest.

In less than an hour, Conrad’s prediction came true- after multiple rolls of thunder, the sky burst open, and it began to rain. Even under the trees, the downpour was torrential. Finally Conrad relented and you found a small clearing to break camp.

The two of you worked quickly to break out the tarp, fastening it to the trees as a covering. But by the time you had tied it up, fighting against both the wind and rain, you and Conrad were both soaked through.

You ducked under the tarp, which you had spiked onto the ground as well to create a diagonal windbreaker. Your body shivered relentlessly as you undid your wet hair, wringing it out on the dirt.

Conrad ducked under the tarp a moment later, water dripping from his clothes, and promptly began peeling his wet shirt from his body. You stopped wringing out your hair and gaped at his muscled abdomen glistening from the rain, too enamored to look away in time for him to catch your eye.

“Yes?” He asked, a smirk playing on his lips. He’d caught you looking this time, and there was no getting out of it.

“You, um—“ you began lamely, blinking your wet eyelashes as your face heated up. “What, uh - what are you doing?”

Conrad scoffed slightly and held up his wet shirt in his hand. “Wringing this out. You should take yours off, too. The last thing you need is hypothermia.”

Your face reddened further at the idea and you reached up to twist your your hair one final time. “I’m not wearing anything under this, though,” you mumbled. Another roll of thunder rumbled through the clouds.

Conrad shrugged, looking you up and down. “So? Use your blanket. Or I can lend you mine,” he added, dropping his bag onto the hearth and opening it up, rummaging through it for a minute before pausing, setting his hands on his knees, and chuckling in embarrassment. “Or not.”

“Did you forget it?” You asked in surprise, laying out your sleeping mat and dropping onto your knees. You nearly bumped into him as you did so — the tarp was small, and the result was a severe lack of personal space. It only made you more aware of how close the two of you were, and you gritted your teeth silently in frustration.

“It would appear so,” he said, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“How did you sleep last night, then?”

Conrad looked over at you as he knelt onto his own mat, spreading it out as much as the tarp’s coverage would allow. “I didn’t,” he answered simply.

You scoffed, pulling out your own blanket and shaking your head. You turned to face away from him, your teeth chattering as you peeled your tank top away from your skin, wondering if he was looking at you as you undressed.

“That’s very irresponsible,” you commented, wringing your shirt out over the dirt outside before grabbing your blanket and pulling it over your shoulders, covering yourself adequately enough not to flash him by accident. Or on purpose.

“What, forgetting my blanket?” He asked, amused.

“Not letting me take a shift,” You retorted, shivering and pulling the blanket tighter around you. “You need your sleep.”

Conrad smiled and looked up at you, curling his wide shoulders backward as he crossed his arms over his bare chest. “I would venture to say that you need it more, since you’re the one with orders.”

You scoffed, rolled your eyes, and made a “hmph” sound, unable to think of a good reply- so you changed the subject, scooting over to him and pulling his arms away from his chest.

“Let me see your wound,” you said, knowing full well it was just an excuse to get a better look at him, and hopefully curb your rampant frustration. You already knew at first glance that the wound had healed - what was formerly a ragged gash across his muscular chest had turned into a thick silver line, stretching from his collarbone to right pectoral muscle. In a way, it was strikingly beautiful: a shocking centerpiece on his bare, muscular chest.

Without thinking, you reached out and touched his skin, trailing your finger over the line.

Conrad watched you silently, your cold fingers sending a shiver down his spine. The desire to take your hand and press a kiss to your palm crossed his mind like it had many times before, but he pushed it away. You were a physician, after all— it was your job to care about your patients.

But he  _had_  caught you looking at him, certainly more than once. And for him to deny that he hadn’t done the same would be an outright lie…

Conrad’s chest widened as he breathed in slowly, composing himself. As a military operative, you were off limits, and that was that.

You pulled you hand back as a gust of wind shook the tarp, and goosebumps prickled on your skin. You suddenly realized how cold Conrad must’ve been, and covered your blanket out to him, holding your arm over your chest.

“Come here,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible above the rain.

Conrad blinked, glancing at the blanket and shaking his head. “No, I’m alright.“

“Come here,” you repeated adamantly, shivering. “Cause If you get hypothermia, then you become my problem.”

Conrad chuckled lowly and relented, sitting down beside you and wrapping the blanket over both your shoulders. It barely covered the both of you when you sat side-by-side, and despite the heat coming off his body you were still shivering against his shoulder.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” you heard him mutter, and he laid down on the sleeping mat, beckoning for you to join him.

Your face flushed, but you obliged, curling up on the mat with your bare back against his chest, letting him spread the blanket over the both of you.

Conrad pulled his legs up, spooning against your back and curling his body around you. You felt another shiver run down your spine, but you knew it wasn’t from the cold.

Conrad reached up and pulled the tarp flap closed, enveloping you in momentary darkness before the electric lamp hummed and turned on.

Thunder rolled outside, now slightly muted by the walls of the tarp. You and Conrad laid against each other, stiff as boards, too afraid to entangle yourselves or even adjust your positions for comfort’s sake. The tension was as palpable and overwhelming as the storm outside.

You were screaming internally, trying to muster up the courage to get more comfortable, but your muscles wouldn’t obey. You could feel his warm breath on your back, raising the hairs on the back of your neck and causing you to shiver whenever he exhaled.

After what felt like eternity, Conrad shifted, putting his arm around your waist with so much hesitance that you almost laughed out loud. Even then, his arm hung limp, refusing to pull you closer or even touch your skin more than he had to. Then he sighed softly, and you caught a hint of his cologne, flooding your senses and driving you to the edge.

This was the last straw.

You sat up, your hair falling into your face, the blanket hanging from your shoulders by a thread, and huffed angrily.

Conrad sat up, too, putting his hand on your arm. “What is it?”

You turned, almost pouncing on him as you reached forward and pulled his face to yours and kissed him, deeply, with all the pent up frustrations of the past weeks. His lips were soft and tasted sweet like honey, made even sweeter by the satisfaction of kissing him after denying yourself for so long. 

Conrad made a surprised noise and instinctively put his hand on your waist, beginning to pull you close before breaking the kiss and pulling away, his eyes wide in the dark.

“Y/N, there are consequences—“

“Captain, I  _really_  don’t care,” you interrupted, kissing him again and running your hands down to his shoulders.

He took this as a satisfactory answer, caving in and moving his lips against yours as the blanket fell completely from your shoulders. He dug his fingers into your skin, pulling you against him as you slipped your tongue into his mouth. His lips moved in rhythm with yours, and you could feel the same release of long-held frustration in him as he kissed you.

*** * ***

Then you broke away from his lips and swung your leg over him, straddling his waist and leaning down to nip at his ear.

Conrad inhaled sharply and leaned his head back on the mat, grinding his hips gently against you as his hands ran down your bare back.

You took advantage of his exposed neck to plant chaste kisses there, nipping his skin with your teeth and leaving tiny red marks. With every kiss you felt his restless energy beneath you grow, until finally he reached up and flipped you over in one fluid motion, your legs still twined around his waist.

Your chest shuddered in a gasp as he immediately enveloped your lips in an arousing kiss, grinding rhythmically against you. You were pinned down by his weight, his wide shoulders curled forward and hands roaming freely over your waist.

The air inside the tent was no longer even remotely cold, entrapping the heat of your bodies and breaths. The storm seemed far away, covering any noise that the two of you made – for all the jungle knew, you weren’t even there.

Conrad pulled away from your lips and leaned down, grinning roguishly before planting a kiss below your collarbone, suckling the skin and grazing you gently with his teeth.

You gasped, arching your back and digging your nails into his back, spurning him on. You could feel a familiar, anxious heat in the pit of your stomach, and you moved your hips up against his, desperate for more.

Conrad nipped at your skin once more before he pulled away, leaving a bright red mark that would definitely last. He looked up at you, exhilarated, smiling softly in a way you’d never seen before. You stared into his eyes, feeling awed– you had looked at him for so long, but you were only truly  _seeing_  him now, for the first time, and it made your heart leap in your chest.

Then the Captain’s smile turned mischievous and he kept his eyes locked with yours as he ran both his hands up to massage your breasts, pinching your hardened nipples between his fingers.

A moan escaped your lips and you ran your hands up his back, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling it gently.

Conrad actually  _growled_  against your skin, leaving his current fixation to press a rough kiss to your lips, grinding rhythmically on your hips. You could feel the tightness of his pants as he pressed against you and you groaned impatiently, causing him to pull away and press his lips to your ear, his breath hot and labored.

“Are you complaining?” He asked softly, his voice both hoarse and amused. His whisper sent shivers down your spine. “After all you’ve put me through?”

“ _Me_?” You gasped, laughing between kisses.

Conrad hummed affirmatively, smiling against your lips as his hand began to wander down your waist, pulling at the waistband of your pants.

“You,” he whispered against your lips. He undid the button of your pants, playing with the hem of your undergarments, gliding his finger against the skin of your stomach to deliberately tease you.

For him to be so agonizingly close was infuriating. You arched your back, trying to bring his hand closer, but he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he reprimanded lowly. “You should know it won’t be that easy. I have every intent to make you beg.”

“Please,” you supplied breathlessly, your heart beating out of your chest. You ached to be touched, with the pit in your stomach only growing by the second.

Conrad smirked and slipped his hand beneath the hem of your underwear, sliding his finger between your wet folds and humming low in his chest at how slick you were.

You gasped, arching your back and pressing your hips into his hand, but he remained unmoving, chuckling at your desperate expression.

“Impatient?” He asked.

“ _Fuck_ , Conrad,” you groaned, reaching down and wrapping your hand around his wrist. Conrad hummed as you moved his hand down, and at your instruction, slid his finger inside you.

A loud and involuntary moan left your lips as he pumped his finger in and out, curling it inside of you and making you writhe beneath him, gripping the blanket until your knuckles turned white. After a few seconds he added a second finger, pushing faster. Heat pooled in your stomach and you whimpered in ecstasy, your heart hammering in tune with the rolls of thunder that rumbled through the sky above you.

Just as you were beginning to near the edge, Conrad pulled his fingers out, leaving you aching and severely wanting more. But before you could complain, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you sweetly and catching your bottom lip gently between his teeth before pulling away.

You sat up, kissing him again and wrapping one arm around his neck. You ran the other hand down his chest, trailing your fingers against his skin until you reached his cargo pants, palming against his member and eliciting a low moan from his soft lips.

A thrilling shiver ran down your spine at how big he felt in your hand, and you quickly walked your fingers up to undo his pants, pulling them down and freeing him from their tight constraints.

Conrad chuckled and pushed you back down on to the sleeping mat, ridding you of your pants and pressing his lips to your inner thighs. His hands gripped your bare flesh as he moved downward, kiss by kiss, until he paused to look up at you with twinkling eyes.

Then he pulled your hips towards him, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he leaned down and kissed you, his muscled chest exhaling deeply as he pushed himself slowly inside of you, stretching you further than you thought you could go.

You moaned loudly and dug your fingernails into his back, shuddering as he growled in your ear and began to move, slowly picking up rhythm until his hips were rolling against you over and over. You gasped for breath between passionate kisses, completely enamored and overwhelmed as his movements took you higher and higher.

“James,” you whimpered, your arms wrapped around his shoulders for dear life as he moved with you. “Oh, God, James–”

His name on your lips sent a shiver down his spine and he quickened his pace, his face buried in your shoulder and pressing kisses to your neck until you were saying his name like a prayer. The heat in the core of your stomach built and built until finally you reached ecstasy, gasping for breath as stars floated in your vision. You clenched around him involuntarily and he gasped, finding the same release and falling atop you.

*** * ***

You could feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest as the two of you caught your breath, noticing the storm outside again for the first time in what felt like hours. The rain and thunder had lessened somewhat, dissolving to only the occasional rumble and a constant, gentler pitter-patter on top of the tent.

Conrad shifted onto his back, pulling you with him so that you could lay on his chest. His heart was still beating fast, his breathing had evened out, and his hands ran up and down the skin of your back gently in wide, soothing circles.

“I think we’re warm now,” you said quietly, and he laughed deep in his chest.

“Yes, I think so.”

You sighed comfortably and nestled into his chest, suddenly overcome by fatigue– though it wasn’t really a surprise. That might’ve been the best exercise you’d had in months.

You reached up sleepily to cover a yawn before looking up at his face and planting a small kiss on his jawline. He hummed through his nose, reaching up and running his hand over your hair and sighing contentedly.

Another yawn escaped your lips and you pulled away, setting your head back down on his chest and closing your eyes. Conrad continued to draw circles on your back, encouraging your drowsiness and pulling you closer to sleep.

He laid awake in the dark with your weight on his chest, sighing comfortably and staring at the tarp above you. While you were falling asleep, his own mind was spinning at the thought of you, and the disbelief that you were here with him, in this moment. He’d dreamed only to hold you since you’d met, and now … well, it was safe to say he was beyond happiness.

“I love you,” he whispered aloud, as if realizing it for the first time.

But you didn’t respond to this whispered confession, or stir in the slightest at his words. You were already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

You woke up in Conrad’s arms.

The storm had died in the night, reduced to an ever-present wind that blew against the tarp of the tent. It would have been chilly, if not for the strong arms wrapped around your waist and the warm breath in the crook of your neck.

The Captain’s chest rose and fell evenly in the telltale sign of deep sleep. His skin was pleasantly warm against yours, and you sighed contentedly, not wanting to get up. But the sun was shining through the fabric of the tarp, and you had to get to Camp Carroll as soon as possible.

You bit your lip and closed your eyes, nestling deeper into him and letting yourself enjoy the moment for a second more. You were just beginning to wonder when Conrad would wake when his breathing changed and he stirred, gripping you tighter. His hold around you loosened as his eyelids fluttered gently open, and he hummed deeply, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Am I dreaming?” He murmured, smiling against your skin.

“Not quite,” you whispered, leaning up on your elbows and turning to press your lips to his. This seemed to wake him, and the two of you laid there for more than a few minutes, speaking gentle words and pressing gentler kisses to each other’s lips and skin, adoring in a way that was different from the night prior, but just as sweet.

Conrad pulled away reluctantly, setting his forehead against yours and sighing. “We should be going.”

“We could stay a while longer,” you whined, knowing you shouldn’t protest, but currently uncaring of that fact. You smiled and raised an eyebrow suggestively, your expression mischievous and taunting.

Conrad chuckled and shook his head, capturing your lips in a kiss and teasing gently at your bottom lip with his teeth. You laughed in his mouth and it spurned him further. His hands roamed freely over your waist, and he flipped you over, pulling you beneath him. Conrad’s eyes glinted with a similar mischievous shine, and he pressed a hot kiss to the nape of your neck.

You weren’t going to be leaving for a while.

~

An hour (or two) later, you set out. The day proved to be windy and grey-skied, but the storm was behind you, and no rain came. You and Conrad began the journey in easy conversation, which turned into companionable silence, which then became uncomfortable quiet. The Captain seemed to grow more solemn with every step, like every inch towards the DMZ solidified your relationship as military personnel only, and not something more.

 _Even though we are something more_ , you thought, ducking under a vine and staring at his broad shoulders. Your eyes clouded over with memory from the night before. It stirred strong and unexpected emotions in the pit of your stomach, and suddenly you found yourself wanting to tell him you loved him.

Your heart did a somersault at the thought and you pushed it away as a silly idea. You’d only just caved in to him. And yet, the thought persisted.

You opened your mouth and inhaled, preparing to break the uncomfortable silence, but closed it and shook your head, feeling stupid.  _Why rush? There would be time to say it later._

A break in the treeline interrupted your thoughts. Sunlight streamed through the clouds, illuminating the terrain ahead of you: a wide, green field, a river downhill, and the tents that made up Camp Carroll. To your dismay, there were pillars of black smoke rising from the encampment, and lots of foot traffic: an indication of recent conflict.

“Come on, let’s hurry,” Conrad urged gently, obviously feeling the same anxiety.

The two of you jogged through the tall grass until finally your boots hit hard dirt, and you were inside the camp.

Everyone you passed was in a hurry, and not a single person looked in good shape. Torn uniforms, bloody bandages, makeshift slings… no wonder you had been relocated. They certainly needed you.

Conrad nudged you and pointed to the red cross indicating the Medic Tent, and you broke into a run, ducking under the tent flap. The sight that met your eyes wasn’t unexpected, but it surprised you nonetheless: cots upon cots of injured soldiers, medical tools strewn about and unorganized, and– your eyes caught them working in the far corner of the room –only one medic. And from the look of the sling around their neck, they were injured themselves.

“I need to see General Abrams,” you said weakly.

Conrad, who had followed behind you, put his hand gently on your shoulder and led you out of the tent.

“I think it’s this way,” he said in a soft-spoken tone, his hand falling protectively to the small of your back as you walk.

You noticed his touch, glancing up at him: his face was stoic, bright eyes full of concern and wariness. Your heart welled up in your chest again and your brow furrowed as you felt the words rise up in your throat, unbidden and insistent.

“Conrad, I–” you began.

“–Here it is,” he said, leading you to the General’s tent. He dropped his hand from your back and held up the flap for you, tilting his head quizzically. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Nothing,” you replied quickly, shaking your head as your cheeks flushed. You ducked under the tent flap before he could pry further.

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the light inside the tent: facing away from you, the General stood discussing something in low tones with another officer. He caught sight of you out of the corner of his eye and stopped, turned, and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

You saluted sharply– Conrad did the same. “Sir. You requested a medic transfer– I’m here, Sir. Y/N L/N.”

“Finally, some good news,” he growled, his dark eyes shifting from you to James. “And you are…?”

“Captain James Conrad. Her escort,” he replied quickly, saluting. “Sir.”

“You’re British,” the General observed flatly, clasping his hands together behind his back and narrowing his eyes.

“Yes, Sir.” Conrad paused, pressing his lips together, before explaining himself further. “I’m an SAS Officer specializing in reconnaissance, Sir.”

“We don’t have any need for that here,” General Abrams said shortly, and turned his back to the two of you. “You can stay until we find an assignment for you. After that, you’re not my problem.”

 _Conrad wasn’t staying_. You felt your heart plummet and you opened your mouth to protest, but Conrad quickly shakes his head at you, speaking up instead. “Sir, if I may–”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, nurse L/N?” The General asked, interrupting him.

“Yes, sir,” you murmured, saluting once more before casting a long glance at Conrad. His green eyes met yours and they softened, trying to convey something unsaid, before you ducked your head and left the tent.

You felt like crying, or going back there to argue, or maybe both. Conrad, gone. He hadn’t even given you a chance to speak your mind!  _Was there really nothing he could do here, no way that he could be useful? He was a man of many talents, after all._

You scoffed aloud. The soldiers ahead of you noticed your scowl and quickly side-stepped to avoid your path, but you were too caught up in thought to notice.

 _There’s no way I could find out where he’s gone if they send him away,_  you thought to yourself, feeling more upset every minute.  _He’s British SAS. And even if I could…_  your thoughts trailed off as you ducked under the tent flap.

So many soldiers. More than a few were sitting side-by-side on cots, pressing dirty cloths to their wounds while the only nurse – whose arm was in a cast – bustled around at lightning speed.

You reluctantly let go of your thoughts about Conrad. For now, you had a job to do.

~

The hours flew by, and the sun set, and the stars spun above– and all of it passed you by. Your fingers worked tirelessly into the night: cleaning, wrapping, stitching. Bit by bit the overcrowded conditions of the medical tent dwindled. You sent the injured nurse to their tent early, and worked alone. It wasn’t any trouble, really– it just meant that you stayed awake deeper into the twilight, until the sounds of the camp had all but disappeared against the background of the jungle.

As the last soldier shuffled off with their cuts sterilized and wrapped, you checked your watch. 2:12 am.

“Good lord,” you muttered, reaching up to rub your face. Thank god there was no one else in need of help – you felt like you were about to drop.

“Excuse me.”

 _Or not_ , you thought quickly, looking up with tired eyes to see the person you’d been thinking about all night: his blue-green eyes tired, but sparkling, as he ducked under the tent flap and came to sit on the cot next to you.

“That’s where wounded soldiers sit,” you pointed out, smirking. “Not you.”

Conrad put his hand on his chest and gave you a hurt expression. “On the contrary,” he said, “I am severely wounded.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. My poor heart is out of sorts,” he joked, raising an eyebrow as his eyes flickered over your face. “Do you think you can fix it?”

You scoffed and shook your head, smiling. His lips were tantalizingly close, and before you could think of a response, you found yourself leaning forward. Conrad’s hand reached up to cup your face–

“Captain Conrad?”

The two of you split like lightning just as the General ducked underneath the tent flap, standing straight. You snapped to, your face flushed and nerves buzzing.

But if the General noticed, he made no comment on it. Instead, he turned to address Conrad, who saluted as well. “Sir.”

“I’ve finalized your pending request. You ship out first thing tomorrow.” He glanced between you two, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. You felt your heart leap into your throat.

The General inhaled. “As you were,” he said finally, exiting the tent.

Your stiff posture collapsed with relief and you fell against the cot, blowing a puff of air out of your mouth. Conrad, on the other hand, remained standing. He looks down at the floor, exhaling softly.

At the sight of him your own countenance fell and you swallowed, dreading what he had to say. You crossed your arms over your chest and raised your eyebrows. “James?”

He didn’t meet your eyes. “They’re shipping me out in the morning,” he confessed, his voice low and unwavering, but you could feel its genuine sadness. “It’s only a few days. A supply run to another base, but the terrain is treacherous…” He trailed off and looked up at you, turning and stepping forward. His hands reached forward again, more hesitantly, to cup your face. He smiled when your face flushed at his touch.

“After this one, I’m done,” he added.

Your eyes flickered up to his face and you gave him a confused look. “What?”

Conrad chuckled. “I’m done. I’ll be decommissioned. And I’m coming back for you.” He stroked your thumb affectionately. “I  _promise_.”

Your heart leapt, turning from tragedy to joy in an instant. “Oh, my god–” You stopped talking and pulled him down into a kiss, holding his face in your hands, never wanting to let go.

You felt him laugh in his chest and he pulled you closer, holding you tight against his chest. His touch was so warm, the smell of his shirt so intoxicating, the taste of his lips so sweet, that you didn’t know how you’d ever lived without it.

You pulled away from his lips to take a breath, setting your forehead against his chest and laughing. “How’s your heart feel?”

“All better,” he chuckled, brushing your hair back affectionately. His eyes closed as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, squeezing your hand. “Y/N–”

“–Stay,” you interrupted, looking up at him. “Please. Stay with me.”

He gave you a confused look, and then chuckled. “Did you think I was going to leave you?” He looked down and reached for both your hands, thumbing over them and inhaling deeply. “Y/N, I…” he trailed off, gathering his courage and trying again. “I love you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you kissed him before he could continue, like you’d never kissed him before. Like you’d never kiss him again.

“I love you, too.” 

~

The morning light seeped through the cracks of your tent, shining through the mist and painting stripes on your face. You stirred awake, rolling onto your side and inhaling deeply. You were in your bed – you could vaguely remember Conrad’s strong arms carrying you here – and you smiled, reaching up to rub your face.

There was something in your hand. Curious, you sat up in your bed and opened your fingers.

The lighter.

 _He left it with me_ , you thought to yourself, smiling and flipping it over to read the R.A.F. engraved letters on the side. You nodded in resolution and swung your legs off the bed, pocketing it in your jacket to keep it safe.  _I’ll give it to him when he gets back._

The days passed quickly. Almost a week went by and from dawn till dusk, you worked tirelessly. Strangely, the fact that Conrad was gone seemed to help you focus: it kept you motivated, looking forward to when he returned. In a short amount of time, you had the previously chaotic state of the med tent well-organized. General Abrams stopped by often to approve your work, and it made you buzz with energy when he mentioned the effect it had on camp morale.

Soldiers came in on occasion under the premise of needing a check-up to flirt, but their advances went completely unnoticed by you. Given your starry-eyed state, it was no surprise that they give up quickly.

The day came.

He didn’t come back.

You spent it feeling excited, then anxious, and then worried beyond relief. You contemplated going to the General and asking to go out and find him, but that would be out of line, and ridiculous besides.

That next morning, you sat in the medical tent alone with your thoughts, arranging one of your first aid kits while your mind raced.  _Missions pass their deadlines all the time,_ you reasoned to yourself. _He’ll be back today._

The morning after that, your hands worked meticulously to wrap an injured leg while you murmured under your breath, “he’ll be back today. Any hour now.”

The morning after that, you had to stop thinking about it entirely. Your fingers shook while they stitched, and you found yourself having to take deep breaths in order to curb the anxiety that filled your lungs. The soldier sitting on the cot gave you an odd look before his eyes snapped up to the tent door and he saluted. “General.”

“At ease,” Abrams responded automatically, striding up to you and clearing his throat. “Nurse L/N.”

You started  in surprise, pricking yourself with the needle and stifling a gasp at the sudden sting. You turned and snapped to, dropping your hand and grabbing a cotton swab, holding it to your finger. “Sir?”

He handed you a manila-colored letter, and your heart dropped into your boots as you reached out to take it. “General…?”

He shook his head. “It’s all there. As you were.”

You watched him leave with a numbed expression. Had your heart stopped beating, or did it only feel like it?

With hesitant, trembling fingers, you unfolded the note and scanned over the lines.

**IMMEDIATE TRANSFER :   L/N, Y/N, FIELD NURSE**

**NAHA AIR BASE, US-OCCUPIED JAPAN**

**BY ORDER OF GENERAL ABRAMS 28 AUG 1972**

_Immediately_. No time to write a note. No time to tell Conrad.

“No….” You whispered, reading it over twice more before ducking out of the tent and chasing after the General, the wind whipping at your hair. The clouds overhead were yellow and stormy, blocking out the sun. “Sir!”

The General turned halfway, continuing his pace while you caught up to him. “Yes, nurse?”

“Physician,” You muttered, before swallowing and holding up the note. “Sir, this can’t be right. The Captain, Conrad, he was supposed to –”

“Yes, he’s passed his return date. What does that have to do with this?” He asked sharply. Your cheeks flushed, but you pressed on. “Sir, I had…  I need to … “ You trailed off, at a loss for words.

“What you need to do is get on that helicopter,” He pointed out, tapping on the note. “There’s a storm moving in, and your window is now.”

“But sir–”

“That’s a direct order!” He snapped, finally losing his patience. “Need I remind you the consequences of disobeying a superior officer?”

You blanched and pressed your lips together, stopping in the middle of the path as soldiers ran past. “No, sir,” you replied in a small voice, your eyes going blurry with tears that you quickly blinked away. You ducked your head down and stared at your dirt-caked boots.

General Abrams’ dark eyes flickered over your face, but his expression remained cold. “You have my condolences,” he said finally, squaring his broad shoulders and putting his hand stiffly on your arm.

His gesture of comfort was almost enough to break you, and you only nodded before heading back to your tent. The wind kicked up and burned cold against your face, stinging your eyes and drying them before you had a chance to cry.

You ran to your tent and collect your effects, stuffing the books and miscellaneous items into your duffel bag.

As you kneel down to pick up the straps, Conrad’s lighter dropped out of your pocket and hit your boot. 

You froze, staring at it for what felt like an eternity.  _Should I leave it here?_

After a moment of hesitation, your fingers wrapped around it and you put it back in your pocket, slinging your duffel bag over your shoulder and heading out to the helipad. The wind had kicked up even more now, fighting against the helicopter blades. The co-pilot took your bag and helped you in, urging you to hurry. The sky was almost completely grey now, its voluminous yellow storm clouds crowding out any sign of blue.

The helicopter began to rise. You reached for something to hold onto, watching the camp shrink below you as you were lifted up and into the clouds. As the altitude rose, your heart fell, and you thumbed over the R.A.F. lighter in your hand.

“But he promised,” you whispered weakly, tears welling in your eyes again. This time, you didn’t bother wiping them away.

 

Below you, in a truck driving along the bumpy dirt path, Captain Conrad sat anxiously in the backseat of the caravan, looking up at the yellow storm clouds.

Every free moment over the past week, he’d been thinking of you. Yes, the mission had been drawn out longer than expected, but at least now he had new stories to tell. Hopefully you weren’t too exhausted by your medical work to hear them.

 _Even if you were, your tired listening expression was unbearably cute,_  he thought, smiling in anticipation of seeing your face. His fingers fidgeted with his navy pants as he waited for the truck to break into the camp and slow down enough for him to jump off.

As soon as the first tents appeared, he leapt from the back and broke into a run, dodging soldiers and muttering apologies when he checked shouldiers. Seeing you was the only thing in his mind, leaving no space for anything else. Telling you how sorry he was. Kissing your lips to make up for the lost days –  _god_ , your lips.

Conrad reached the medical tent and ducked under the flap, but was met with an empty room. He blinked in confusion, looking around, before exiting and heading down the road to your tent.  _You must be there_ , he reasoned, unworried. After all, where else could you be?

Empty.

His expression - and heart - fell as he observed the vacant tent. It looked disheveled, abandoned in a hurry. Worry rose in his throat and he forced it down, putting his tongue between his teeth and forcing his heartbeat to slow. You were around. You had to be.

Conrad ducked out of your tent and nearly collided with General Abrams, saluting quickly. “Sir!” he said, catching his attention.

The general raised his eyebrows, and then nodded quickly. “Oh, of course. Conrad. Your letters of decommission are in my office– you may come and get them when you’re ready.”

Conrad faltered slightly, frowning. “That’s – very good, sir. Please, do you know where Nurse Y/N–”

“Captain, as a  _British_  SAS officer, I’m not at liberty to tell you,” he responded, answering Conrad’s question before he can finish asking it.

Conrad’s countenance fell and he opened his lips to reply, but nothing came. Had his heart stopped beating, or did it only feel like it?

For a moment he didn’t realize that the General had continued speaking. “… free to return to England. There are ships in Bangkok that will take you there.”

And then, he was alone.

Captain James Conrad stood in the middle of the road, soldiers passing him by. The wind whipped at his clothes, pulling them from him, as he stayed frozen in place and utterly hopeless. 

Where had you gone? 

His mind raced and his blue eyes darted around, looking for some sign of you, but there was nothing to be found. All he could feel were the heartstrings in his chest splitting, the unbidden tears in his eyes blurring his vision, the overwhelming sense of hopelessness.

He fell to his knees, and looked up to the sky, where the yellow clouds had turned dark, drowning out the sun.

It began to rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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